


Excerpts From A Fucked Up Childhood

by TheMadHatterOfficial



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Vanya's book, sibling relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:49:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22892002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadHatterOfficial/pseuds/TheMadHatterOfficial
Summary: Fragments of the fucked up lives of the Umbrella Academy
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Eudora Patch
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

I don’t remember how Four started his descent.

Logically, I know there was a beginning. That Four didn’t just turn into a crackhead overnight, stealing for drug money and selling his body for whatever else. But it’s difficult to recall.

Maybe it was when he broke his jaw. One moment Four had been at the top of the stairs after stealing mom’s best heels and twirling in one of my uniform skirts, giggling maniacally through Three’s cheap gas station cherry lip gloss. The next he was at the bottom, body crumpled up under him and jaw set at an unnatural angle.

A beat.

Then Three screamed. Two, Five, and Six raced down to help. One ran to dad, and I ran to mom.

 _“He’s d-dead!”_ Two shrieked hysterically behind me. His voice bounced off the walls, panicked in a way he never was and echoing through the gilded prison around us. _“F-f-f-four’s d-d-d-d-de-dead! MOM!”_

Four wasn’t dead. Mom and One carted him off, dad watching impassively from the sidelines before ordering us back to our studies. Three hastily wiped at her bloodshot eyes and Six hugged his arms tighter around his suspiciously roiling stomach. Five snapped something snarky that made dad’s face turn bright red in rage and was dragged off by the scruff of his neck, leaving the rest of us alone in the foyer. (Four and Five liked to do that. Draw attention to themselves to keep the rest of us out of trouble. I never realized that that was what they were doing until recently, and I don’t think anyone else saw that either.)

The whole time, Four was high out of his mind on pain meds. Dad ordered us not to go and see him, but I don’t think anyone listened. I certainly didn’t.

I remember one night, a rare time where Four was slightly lucid for the first time in days. I sat next to him and combed out his matted curls. His nails were pink and red and yellow - no doubt Three’s handywork - and there were drawings next to him of all of us and weird unicorn monsters armed with swords that were signed _Number Two Hargreeves._

“I can’t see them.”

“What do you mean?”

Four giggled, taking my hand in his and humming brightly.

“The ghosties. They’re _gone_ .” Four laughed his strange high, bell-like laugh that shouldn’t have been creepy but always made everyone uncomfortable. “I’m so high, Vanya. I’m… _alone_ . For the first time in my _life_ . It’s fucking _quiet_ , V. I can _breathe_.”

_I can breathe._

I find that ironic now, seeing what Four became. Watching him crawl home at three in the morning, stumbling around as he came down, covered bruises and dried blood mixed with glitter. I lost track of how many times dad screamed himself hoarse, backhanding Four and dragging him away so as not to ‘corrupt’ us. I lost track of how many times I watched Four’s boyfriends or girlfriends beat the crap out of him and not being able to do anything to help him. I lost track of when I’d last seen him sober, or happy, or anything other than the overpowering numbness he’d been chasing after his whole life.

I lost track of a lot of things.

“V, I need money.”

“V, can you buy me some cigarettes? I’ll pay you back, promise.”

“V, can I have some of your pills? Just a few.”

“V, can my boyfriend and I stay with you?”

“V, I need you.”

“V, she loves me.”

“V, he raped me.”

“V, just a few dollars.”

“V-

“V-

“V-

“V-

Four wasn’t dead. But he might as well have been.

* * *

Hargreeves, Vanya. "Number Four." _Extra-Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven_ , 2014, pp. 134-135.


	2. Chapter 2

Diego had been scared of water for as long as he could remember.

He hadn’t been when he was small. Diego knows this because at some point Klaus found a bunch of baby pictures taken by old nannies hidden away in the attic. Among shots of little Seven plucking guitar strings and baby Ben with his stomach tenting ominously in his crib were quite a few in the bath. As embarrassing as they were, there were countless numbers of them, including a good amount of him in the indoor pool (probably too young to be there all alone, but oh well.)

In hindsight, that’s probably how Reginald found out about his secondary powers.

It was humiliating, is what it was. Now, Diego could barely deal with a cup overflowing with water without freaking out, or stepping in a puddle outside.

So it wasn’t surprising that he was currently having a panic attack in the middle of Eudora’s kitchen. Disappointing, yes, but not surprising.

She’d been complaining about her sink acting up for the longest time. Diego offered to help again and again until she finally gave in. Fresh out of the police academy, one could call Diego and Eudora ‘friendly,’ but not ‘friends.’

The water was freezing. Diego only leaning down for a moment, then the sprayer abruptly triggered and caught him right in the face.

And then Diego was back there.

Instinctively, Diego took in a breath and held it. He could feel the panic building in his chest, the need to breathe even though by some freak of nature Diego really didn’t. The tightness and the overwhelming pressure that felt like a building was sitting on his ribs, slowly caving in his chest.

He could _feel_ the bones digging into his lungs. It was sharp and hot, contrasting sharply with the overwhelming chill crawling across his skin.

(Diego had always been Cold. Mom and Klaus were too, but it was a different kind of Cold. He doesn’t know about Number Four, but for Diego it was always smooth. Like the ocean rolling over you, silky and cool and all-encompassing. He’d never known what it was to be Warm.)

(He felt it more when he was surrounded by water. Could physically _feel_ the pull of the ocean in his blood, heart pounding in tune to the waves cresting over the sand. Diego could feel water everywhere, soft and gentle and violent and otherworldly, drowning the world in blue blue blue until it was all there was and ever would be.)

(And if, sometimes, Diego could flick his wrist and bend the water with a thought…

What Reginald never knew couldn’t hurt him.)

But now, all Diego could feel were the ghosts he thought he’d left long ago. Rough cloth over his face, the ropes rubbing his skin raw from where he tried to get away from the water, pouring down and drowning him over and over until he passed out.

The room was too small and the top of the cage was closing above him, water was flooding in and Diego was scared, he was so scared, and there’s One watching with wide blue blue blue eyes and Four is screaming and banging on the glass over and over and over and _dad, please, let him out! You can’t do this to him, please dad! Please-_

And then he’s Warm.

Small hands fluttering over Diego’s arms, frantic and gentle and for a moment Diego thinks it’s Four, or maybe Mom, but these hands were Warm.

They were brushing his cheeks, running through his hair and pulling him forward until he uncurls from himself and into someone else.

“Oh, Diego, you’re okay. You’re okay, I got you, it’s okay. I got you.”

Diego liked how Eudora said his name. It had a slight Spanish accent to it, very different from the usual American way, or Pogo’s smooth English, or the occasional French that he and his siblings tended to slip into sometimes. It was so different than how anyone else said it, so different from dad’s sharp _"Number Two!"_ that sometimes played as a soundtrack in his nightmares.

Eudora tucks his head under her chin and tightens her hold on him. She cradles him close like he’s something precious and Diego feels a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over.

“S-sorry.”

Diego’s voice is hoarse and he cringes at the stutter. He’d long since grown out of it, but every stumble or falter made Diego was to shrink into himself and disappear. Sometimes he still flinches, waiting for Dad’s reprimanding slap accompanied with the cut of his sharp ring stinging his cheek.

“Nothing to be sorry for, okay? _Nothing_.”

Eudora hummed quietly and continued to run her fingers through his hair, longer now than it had ever been and curling up above his ears. She hauled Diego even closer until he was basically in her lap. For once, Diego didn’t even fake protest at the affection. He just let Eudora hold him close, murmuring under her breath and rocking them on her kitchen’s hardwood floor.

Diego didn’t fix her sink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is mostly about stories that could have happened in the canon-verse, but it may stray a little - or a lot - depending on my mood


	3. Chapter 3

Number Five was tasked to kill a young barber.

He didn’t remember what he was relevant to, only that he was to make it look like an accident. No trace, no nothing.

Carbon monoxide poisoning was a boring one, but efficient. The apartment Jamie Ellis lived in was old and rundown, and such an instance wouldn’t be surprising. And who remembers to change the batteries in the detectors anyways?

(Psychopaths, that’s who.)

Number Five was in and out in under two hours. He blinked out of the apartment complex and into the alleyway below, cringing as he crunched a used needle underfoot.

“ _Really_?”

He took a moment, spatial jumping being a more difficult task now than it had been when Number Five was young. His body wasn’t what it used to be and Five sighed before moving forward.

The streets here were fairly empty at this time of night. There were suspicious figures lurking around the corners and bail bonds every other block, blatant dealing in the lights of the store fronts and a girl that looked far too young climbing into a tinted car and tucking a bill into her bra.

“Hey honey. Need some company?”

Five didn’t even glance up at the young woman as he passed, keeping his eyes forward and his feet moving. “No.”

“You sure? Look stressed, baby.”

Five turned the corner sharply, cutting through another back way towards the motel he was stationed at.

The December air was cutting through Five’s coat, biting sharply at his nose. He spotted a group of young college kids stumbling by, definitely in the wrong part of town. A girl with curly blonde hair had a pair of crappy Dollar Store glasses on, the hot pink _2009_ having eye holes through the zeros.

Ah. New Years, then.

The next street had another group of hookers leaning against the wall. Five grumbled in anger, but he refused to move to the other side of the street to avoid them.

“Hey daddy.”

“Need some help?”

“Could give you a hand there, baby. All you gotta do is ask.”

Five ignored them. He kept moving, thinking about Delores waiting for him with the margarita mix he had in his bag back at his room. She wouldn’t be pleased with him drinking so soon after getting back, but Five felt like he deserved it.

Maybe he would get her a new outfit. God knew she deserved it for putting up with Five’s shit for as long as she did.

More catcalls.

Five rolled his eyes. As if he would _ever_ betray Delores like that. They may not be married (yet, Five thinks, as he remembers the ring he picked up at an old shop in 1812) but she was It for him.

So Five kept it moving.

Or, he would have, if he hadn’t heard him.

If it wasn’t for his laugh, bright and manic and just this side of unhinged, Five wouldn’t have recognized him. He stopped in his tracks, mind reeling back back back to late nights in echoing castles, fairy lights and knee high socks, the stench of smoke filtered in from the fire escape and laying on the roof staring at the stars.

_(“There’s so much out there, Fivey. The world is so big.”_

_“Did you know that space never ends? It just keeps going. Thousands of stars have their own solar systems, their own worlds. And there’s an infinite number of stars in space.”_

_“Maybe we can go there. To another world.”_

_Five’s bones ached. Everything hurt and the dried tears made his cheeks itchy. He had special training with dad, and Five had jumped again and again until he collapsed, throwing up all over himself and dad’s expensive French carpet. Dad hit him after with his cane until the welts on his back throbbed in time with his heartbeat._

_Four grabbed his hand. Twined their fingers together and squeezed tighter and tighter until all Five could feet was his brother’s Cold skin against his own. Gentle and kind and loving and everything everything everything everything._

_“I’d like that.”)_

Klaus looked nothing like he had when they were thirteen. His hair was longer, oily brown ringlets falling over his sunken face. His grin was wide, teeth bared and eyes vacant. He was thin as always, but he looked positively skeletal now, shivering violently and clutching his worn jacket.

Five could count his ribs through the sheer green crop top.

He wanted to be sick.

“Like what you see?”

It took a moment to realize that Klaus was talking to him.

Five felt like he was falling. For the longest time, he believed that he would never see his family again. That he’d never hear Vanya’s violin, or play Scrabble with Ben, or smoke outside with Klaus and Diego or ride bikes in the foyer with Luther or let Allison paint his nails.

He still dreams about it. Still longs for late nights in pillow forts and fluffernutter sandwiches and black coffee at Griddy’s at two in the morning.

Sometimes, if he concentrates, he can hear Allison humming through the wall.

“You look cold.”

Klaus’s eyebrows drew together before his eyes went wide. He looked confused, tilting his head rather like a puppy before sinking into the dirty wall behind him.

“I’m alright. How ‘bout you, handsome? Need someone to keep you warm tonight?”

Five felt revolted at the idea. That might be Luther and Allison’s thing, but Five couldn’t stomach the thought of fucking his brother. And not only that, but thinking about his Number Four having to sell his body for money.

( _Drug money_ , Five’s mind whispered.)

Unfortunately, this outcome isn’t very surprising. Klaus started this life long ago. This disaster had long since been in the making.

Five jerked his head and Four pushed himself up. Five started walking again, and Klaus followed him.

“Fifty for an hour.”

Five nodded sharply and said nothing else.

Klaus shivered again as a gust of cold wind assaulted them.

He didn’t even have to think about it. Five pulled off his heavy woolen coat and draped it around Klaus’s shoulders, clasping it firmly and leaving a hand on his shoulder to try and rub some warmth into it.

Wide green eyes stared up at Five in surprise, but Klaus didn’t protest. He even moved a bit closer, Five pulling his brother further into his side.

(Five was scared of how easy it was for Klaus to relax into him. Then again, kindness was probably something that was even more scarce in Four’s life now than it was when they were kids.)

Finally, they reached the motel, Five leading Four up the stairs to his room. Five pulled away and pulled out his key, guiding Klaus inside with a hand between his shoulders.

“Um.”

Five looked up from where he closed the door, seeing Klaus’s eyes glued to the bed where Delores sat patiently.

“That’s Delores.”

Klaus turned slowly, mouth opening and closing in a struggle to find something to say.

“She’s pretty.”

“Thank you.”

Five tried to dredge up a smile, only managing to tick up the corner of his mouth before moving towards the bed. “You can clean up, if you want. Shower’s yours.”

Klaus hummed and stammered out a thanks before rushing off. He didn’t close the door behind him, but Five relaxed as the shower turned on and the steam began to fill the room.

Five leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Delores’s cheek before sweeping her up. “I’ll explain later, sweetheart.”

Thankfully, Delores seemed to understand and didn’t protest as Five moved her across the room. Five nodded and looked around for something to do.

He only had two more sets of clothes with him, some for sleeping and some for the next day. The sweatpants and t-shirt he had for sleeping would be much too big for Klaus’s heroin-skinny frame, but he still took the neatly folded clothes and set them on the bathroom counter.

Klaus took a while in the shower, but Five didn’t mind. He took a seat in front of the TV, flipping through the channels before putting on a nature documentary. When that didn’t help, Five busied himself with his book.

He missed his family. Five didn’t think he would feel as empty as he did without them, but even after escaping the apocalypse and being surrounded by people again, there was a hollowness in Five’s chest that hurt. He missed Vanya’s timid smiles and Ben’s sarcastic commentary in the background. He even missed Luther, who as naive as he was, also contained a strange kindness and fierce protectiveness that never failed to make Five feel _safe_.

The shower switched off. A few minutes later Klaus shuffled out, drowning in Five’s clothes and leaning against the doorframe in what was supposed to be alluring.

It did absolutely nothing for Five.

“Are you hungry?”

Klaus made that same face, wet hair dripping into his eyes.

“Um, sure? I mean, are you trying to roleplay?”

Five huffed and rolled his eyes. “No. I have leftovers, but that’s it.”

Klaus narrowed his eyes suspiciously as Five stood up. “Sorry, but I have a rule about consuming suspicious things from johns.”

“The track marks on your arms say otherwise.”

If Five had any doubts before about who he was, the Umbrella tattoo on Klaus’s arm resolved them.

“I mean, rude, but fair. What do you got?”

Somehow, after that, found Numbers Four and Five sitting on the bed gorging themselves on leftover Subway, stale chips, and some suspicious looking ice cream that must have been left by one of the previous tenants. Their legs were locked together as the Simpsons reruns played in the background as their argument about The Wizard of Oz quickly evolved into a discussion about queer life and history.

“Okay, but Judy Garland is _The_ gay icon and you cannot persuade me otherwise.”

“Freddie Mercury.”

“Fuck you, dude.”

Five snorted and scraped more freezer burnt neapolitan from the tub with a butter knife.

“This is the weirdest night I’ve ever had.”

“Something tells me that you’ve had weirder.”

“ _Weeelllll_ , there _was_ this chick who was into-”

“Don’t want to hear it.”

“Aaaw, jealous?”

Five flicked a loose onion at Klaus’s face, making him erupt into unconstrained giggles that made Five’s chest loosen.

_God, I’ve missed him._

Five wanted to stay.

But the commission would know. They would come and they would hurt his family. And even then, Five still had no idea what caused the apocalypse.

He wasn’t _ready_.

Five wanted to scream.

“You okay, man?”

Klaus was leaning closer, invading Five’s space with the same way he always had. Five barely resisted flinching as Klaus’s breath washed over his face.

“Fine.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Five pushed Klaus away and back into his space before eating another disgustingly old chip. “That sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Five grinned back. “Thank you.”

It went quiet for a little, Four and Five watching the TV absently as they kept eating. The bass from the neighbor’s music vibrated against the far wall, police sirens echoing close by.

“Why are you doing this?”

Five glanced up, catching Klaus’s eye as he looked on in interest. He raised an eyebrow, Klaus mimicking him before pulling his knees up to his chest. “Just… I want to know.”

How was Five supposed to explain that? How was he supposed to explain that he was his brother, who time traveled to the future only to get stuck? How was he supposed to explain to sweet little Number Four, who was most definitely coked out of his mind, that he was his brother who’d come back to 2008 to assassinate an orphaned barber in his master plan to prevent the end of the world?

He couldn’t.

So Five settled for the closest thing to the truth.

“You remind me of my brother.”

The words were out before Five could process them. He looked to Klaus, who seemed to have more understanding as he nodded slowly.

“You feel responsible.”

_Of fucking course he did._

“I just…” Five’s chest felt tight, breathing getting harder and harder. Klaus’s eyes bore into his, and for a fleeting moment, Five was sure that he’d Know. That he’d look into Five’s soul and suddenly See him, See his brother desperately crying out to be noticed.

 _(“Five! Oh my god, Five, where have you been?! Do you know how worried we’ve all been? We_ **_never_ ** _stopped looking for you. I’ve missed you, Fivey, please don’t leave, never leave me again, please please please please-”)_

“What happened to him?”

Four’s hand was still Cold. He had Five’s wrist in it, thumb rubbing gently against the bone there. It was just like when they were little.

“He died. When I was a kid.”

“Oh.” Klaus’s hand tightened around his arm. “I’m sorry.”

Five sighed, his head thumping against the wall as he leaned back. “It’s… well, it’s not fine, but it’s done.”

“Do you miss him?”

Klaus watched as Five looked at him in shock, eyes wide and incredulous. “Of course I do. He was - he _is_ \- my brother.”

“I wish my family felt like that.”

Five waited, sliding Klaus’s hand down to his and squeezing once. An encouragement.

“One of my brothers, he ran away when we were thirteen. Another one died when we were seventeen.”

“I’m sorry.”

Klaus bit his lip, pulling Five’s arm into his lip to play with his fingers. Five stayed quiet as Klaus bent them back and forth, pressing their fingertips together gently. His nails were purple, the ring finger’s paint already starting to chip.

“Sometimes, I don’t think they cared about us. Not enough to stick around, at least.”

Five watched as Klaus’s eyes drifted to the corner of the room and stayed there. Five would’ve thought it was the drugs, if he wasn’t so focused on something.

A ghost, probably.

Their hands tightened around each other so tight Five thought that they’d break each others’ fingers.

“They loved you.”

Klaus’s attention snapped back to Five, a question on his lips.

“ _Believe me_. They loved you.”

Later, after Klaus fell asleep, Five sat beside him for a long time. He ran his fingers through Four’s curls, tracing his cheekbones and jawline over and over and over.

_He’s real. He’s alive. Klaus is here and he’s safe and everything’s okay._

“I’m so sorry, Four. I’m so sorry.”

* * *

When morning finally came, Five was gone. Klaus found a note, five hundred dollars underneath it and a receipt for the next month’s rent for the room.

_Happy New Years. Stay safe, Klaus. -F_

(“You never told him your name.”

“What?”

“The guy. You never gave him your name.”

“Whatever, Benny. Now, let’s go get that good H from Nat. Maybe we’ll even have cash left over for waffles!”)


End file.
